Tag: The Children

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And Now He Isn’t

When I was just 17
I fell for his pain.

He was different from me
and yet we were the same.

There between walls
and hospital beds…

There where we said
all the things left unsaid.

All but the truth
of the love that I felt.

But I know that he knew it;
he told me himself.

He signed it in ink
on a board for goodbyes

as we crossed the brink
to begin our own lives.

I thought he was gone;
though in dreams he was near.

“We must love our loved ones
while we have them here.”

And I swooned
as I grieved
and then one day I healed…

Before the wound
cleaved me in two
and revealed…

That he was alive;
it was I who had died.

And all that I’d felt
was because of a lie.

Written by Jason Wright
July 24, 2026

For Brian – on his 50th birthday.

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Brian Lounsbery: July 24, 1976 – February 28, 2026 (49)

This is Brian. I met him on March 19, 1992. We were pretty close for about a year and then fell out of touch for several more. I called him on his birthday in (I think) 2003. We were friends on Facebook but never really talked on there. Just one of those people I see scroll across my feed. Our lives just seemed so far removed from one another. I saw his final post on February 27. Something about a car, which was pretty typical for him. I smiled and kept scrolling. He died on February 28. A heart attack, according to a tribute on his obituary. He would have been 50 in July.

I don’t have any photos of us together. I took some of him with another friend of ours in the fall of 1992 and I posted them here years ago. The photos above aren’t mine per say. One of his ex-gfs reached out to me many years ago (in late 2002) and these were her photos that she shared with me. I don’t know how to get in touch with her. The e-mail address I had then is long gone. I saved these at random and never bothered to do anything with them, so I’m sharing them now.

This is Brian William Lounsberry. Born July 24, 1976. I always remembered his birthday. I have lots of memories of him, which I have always been grateful for. We never fought. And though we fell out of touch, when I did know him, I loved him very much. I hope he was happy until the end, and that his soul is at peace.

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Free

He told me that I would be punished,
and he was right.

I lived with the blood
and the violence a secret.

I never broke the rule again.

I never sat at a table and ate with them again.

But that wasn’t enough.
I fed him.
And was punished again.

Every time I eat or even admit that I want to eat
I am punished.

No one can convince me otherwise.

I can’t convince myself.

Today was the last straw.

I once joked about ending my life with a straw,
but all those that would understand the joke are dead.

If I can be strong I can escape this cycle.

It’s as easy as self control. No razors.

No jumping off the fifth floor for the security cams to record.

Just a choice.

I will not be punished like this again.

You can not hurt me for something I didn’t do.

I’m not trapped.

I can do this.

Written by Jason Wright
September 18, 2014

This is what a nervous breakdown looks like. I hit a wall. I stopped eating. I didn’t eat any solid food for more than 3 months. I stopped working. I went on short term disability and applied for long term disability, which I did get; it took about 3 years I think. But this is when the PTSD hit me and nearly broke me. Nobody could convince me to eat or that it was going to be okay. I’ve come so far since this day.

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